Margaretwenton，notheedingtheinterruption。“Iknewitfromthefirst，whenhetoldmeaboutthesuicideofhiscousin，theBernsteinboy。Thatkindofbluntpathoscan’tbesummonedatwillinanybody。Theearliernovelistsrosetoit，sometimes，unconsciously。ButlastnightwhenIsangforhimIwasdoublysure。Oh，Ihaven’ttoldyouaboutthatyet！Betterlightyourpipeagain。Yousee，hestumbledinonmeinthedarkwhenIwaspumpingawayatthatoldparlourorgantopleaseMrs。LockhartIt’sherhouseholdfetishandI’veforgottenhowmanypoundsofbuttershemadeandsoldtobuyit。Well，Ericstumbledin，andinsomeinarticulatemannermademeunderstandthathewantedmetosingforhim。Isangjusttheoldthings，ofcourse。It’squeertosingfamiliarthingshereattheworld’send。Itmakesonethinkhowtheheartsofmenhavecarriedthemaroundtheworld，intothewastesofIcelandandthejunglesofAfricaandtheislandsofthePacific。Ithinkifonelivedherelongenoughonewouldquiteforgethowtobetrivial，andwouldreadonlythegreatbooksthatwenevergettimetoreadintheworld，andwouldrememberonlythegreatmusic，andthethingsthatarereallyworthwhilewouldstandoutclearlyagainstthathorizonoverthere。AndofcourseIplayedtheintermezzofromCavalleriaRusticana
　　forhim；itgoesratherbetteronanorganthanmostthingsdo。Heshuffledhisfeetandtwistedhisbighandsupintoknotsandblurtedoutthathedidn’tknowtherewasanymusiclikethatintheworld。Why，thereweretearsinhisvoice，Wyllis！Yes，likeRossetti，Iheardhistears。Thenitdawneduponmethatitwasprobablythefirstgoodmusicbehadeverheardinallhislife。Thinkofit，tocareformusicashedoesandnevertohearit，nevertoknowthatitexistsonearth！Tolongforitaswelongforotherperfectexperiencesthatnevercome。Ican’ttellyouwhatmusicmeanstothatman。Ineversawanyonesosusceptibletoit。Itgavehimspeech，hebecamealive。WhenIhadfinishedtheintermezzo，hebegantellingmeaboutalittlecrippledbrotherwhodiedandwhomhelovedandusedtocarryeverywhereinhisarms。Hedidnotwaitforencouragement。Hetookupthestoryandtolditslowly，asiftohimself，justsortofroseupandtoldhisownwoetoanswerMascagni’s。Itovercameme。“
　　“Poordevil，“saidWyllis，lookingatherwithmysteriouseyes，“andsoyou’vegivenhimanewwoe。Nowhe’llgoonwantingGriegandSchuberttherestofhisdaysandnevergettingthem。That’sagirl’sphilanthropyforyou！“
　　JerryLockhartcameoutofthehousescrewinghischinovertheunusualluxuryofastiffwhitecollar，whichhiswifeinsisteduponasanecessaryarticleoftoiletwhileMissElliotwasatthehouse。Jerrysatdownonthestepandsmiledhisbroad，redsmileatMargaret。
　　“Well，I’vegotthemusicforyourdance，MissElliot。OlafOlesonwillbringhisaccordionandMolliewillplaytheorgan，whensheisn’tlookin’afterthegrub，andalittlechapfromFrenchtownwillbringhisfiddle——thoughtheFrenchdon’tmixwiththeNorwegiansmuch。“
　　“Delightful！Mr。Lockhart，thatdancewillbethefeatureofourtrip，andit’ssoniceofyoutogetitupforus。We’llseetheNorwegiansincharacteratlast，“criedMargaret，cordially。
　　“Seehere，Lockhart，I’llsettlewithyouforbackingherinthisscheme，“saidWyllis，sittingupandknockingtheashesoutofhispipe。“She’sdonecrazythingsenoughonthistrip，buttotalkofdancingallnightwithagangofhalf-madNorwegiansandtakingthecarriageatfourtocatchthesixo’clocktrainoutofRiverton——well，it’stommyrot，that’swhatitis！“
　　“Wyllis，Ileaveittoyoursovereignpowerofreasontodecidewhetheritisn’teasiertostayupallnightthantogetupatthreeinthemorning。Togetupatthree，thinkwhatthatmeans！No，sir，Iprefertokeepmyvigilandthengetintoasleeper。“
　　“ButwhatdoyouwantwiththeNorwegians？Ithoughtyouweretiredofdancing。“
　　“SoIam，withsomepeople。ButIwanttoseeaNorwegiandance，andIintendto。Come，Wyllis，youknowhowseldomitisthatonereallywantstodoanythingnowadays。IwonderwhenI
　　havereallywantedtogotoapartybefore。ItwillbesomethingtoremembernextmonthatNewport，whenwehavetoanddon’twantto。Rememberyourowntheorythatcontrastisabouttheonlythingthatmakeslifeendurable。ThisismypartyandMr。Lockhart’s；
　　yourwholedutytomorrownightwillconsistinbeingnicetotheNorwegiangirls。I’llwarrantyouwereadeptenoughatitonce。
　　Andyou’dbetterbeveryniceindeed，foriftherearemanysuchyoungValkyriesasEric’ssisteramongthem，theywouldsimplytieyouupinaknotiftheysuspectedyouwereguyingthem。“
　　Wyllisgroanedandsankbackintothehammocktoconsiderhisfate，whilehissisterwenton。
　　“Andtheguests，Mr。Lockhart，didtheyaccept？“
　　Lockharttookouthisknifeandbegansharpeningitonthesoleofhisplowshoe。
　　“Well，Iguesswe’llhaveacoupledozen。Youseeit’sprettyhardtogetacrowdtogetherhereanymore。Mostof’emhavegoneovertotheFreeGospellers，andthey’dratherputtheirfeetinthefirethanshake’emtoafiddle。“
　　Margaretmadeagestureofimpatience。“ThoseFreeGospellershavejustcastanevilspelloverthiscountry，haven’tthey？“
　　“Well，“saidLockhart，cautiously，“Idon’tjustliketopassjudgmentonanyChristiansect，butifyou’retoknowthechosenbytheirworks，theGospellerscan’tmakeaveryproudshowin’，an’
　　that’safact。They’reresponsibleforafewsuicides，andthey’vesentagood-sizeddelegationtothestateinsaneasylum，an’I
　　don’tseeasthey’vemadetherestofusmuchbetterthanwewerebefore。Ihadalittleherdboylastspring，assquarealittleDaneasIwanttoworkforme，butaftertheGospellersgotholdofhimandsanctifiedhim，thelittlebeggarusedtogetdownonhiskneesoutontheprairieandpraybythehourandletthecattlegetintothecorn，an’Ihadtofirehim。That’saboutthewayitgoes。Nowthere’sEric；thatchapusedtobeahustlerandthespryestdancerinallthissection-calledallthedances。Nowhe’sgotnoambitionandhe’sglumasapreacher。Idon’tsupposewecanevengethimtocomeintomorrownight。“
　　“Eric？Why，hemustdance，wecan’tlethimoff，“saidMargaret，quickly。“Why，Iintendtodancewithhimmyself。“
　　“I’mafraidhewon’tdance。Iaskedhimthismorningifhe’dhelpusoutandhesaid，’Idon’tdancenow，anymore，’“saidLockhart，imitatingthelabouredEnglishoftheNorwegian。
　　“’TheMillerofHofbau，theMillerofHofbau，OmyPrincess！’“
　　chirpedWyllis，cheerfully，fromhishammock。
　　Theredonhissister’scheekdeepenedalittle，andshelaughedmischievously。“We’llseeaboutthat，sir。I’llnotadmitthatIambeatenuntilIhaveaskedhimmyself。“
　　EverynightEricrodeovertoSt。Anne，alittlevillageintheheartoftheFrenchsettlement，forthemail。AstheroadlaythroughthemostattractivepartoftheDividecountry，onseveraloccasionsMargaretElliotandherbrotherhadaccompaniedhim。
　　TonightWyllishadbusinesswithLockhart，andMargaretrodewithEric，mountedonafriskylittlemustangthatMrs。Lockharthadbrokentothesidesaddle。Margaretregardedherescortverymuchasshedidtheservantwhoalwaysaccompaniedheronlongridesathome，andtheridetothevillagewasasilentone。Shewasoccupiedwiththoughtsofanotherworld，andEricwaswrestlingwithmorethoughtsthanhadeverbeencrowdedintohisheadbefore。
　　Herodewithhiseyesrivetedonthatslightfigurebeforehim，asthoughhewishedtoabsorbitthroughtheopticnervesandholditinhisbrainforever。Heunderstoodthesituationperfectly。Hisbrainworkedslowly，buthehadakeensenseofthevaluesofthings。Thisgirlrepresentedanentirelynewspeciesofhumanitytohim，butheknewwheretoplaceher。Theprophetsofold，whenanangelfirstappeareduntothem，neverdoubteditshighorigin。
　　Ericwaspatientundertheadverseconditionsofhislife，buthewasnotservile。TheNorsebloodinhimhadnotentirelylostitsself-reliance。Hecameofaproudfisherline，menwhowerenotafraidofanythingbuttheiceandthedevil，andhehadprospectsbeforehimwhenhisfatherwentdownofftheNorthCapeinthelongArcticnight，andhismother，seizedbyaviolenthorrorofseafaringlife，hadfollowedherbrothertoAmerica。
　　Ericwaseighteenthen，handsomeasyoungSiegfried，agiantinstature，withaskinsingularlypureanddelicate，likeaSwede’s；
　　hairasyellowasthelocksofTennyson’samorousPrince，andeyesofafierce，burningblue，whoseflashwasmostdangeroustowomen。
　　Hehadinthosedaysacertainprideofbearing，acertainconfidenceofapproach，thatusuallyaccompaniesphysicalperfection。Itwasevensaidofhimthenthathewasinlovewithlife，andinclinedtolevity，avicemostunusualontheDivide。
　　ButthesadhistoryofthoseNorwegianexiles，transplantedinanaridsoilandunderascorchingsun，hadrepeateditselfinhiscase。Toilandisolationhadsoberedhim，andhegrewmoreandmoreliketheclodsamongwhichhelaboured。Itwasasthoughsomered-hotinstrumenthadtouchedforamomentthosedelicatefibersofthebrainwhichrespondtoacutepainorpleasure，inwhichliesthepowerofexquisitesensation，andhadsearedthemquiteaway。ItisapainfulthingtowatchthelightdieoutoftheeyesofthoseNorsemen，leavinganexpressionofimpenetrablesadness，quitepassive，quitehopeless，ashadowthatisneverlifted。Withsomethischangecomesalmostatonce，inthefirstbitternessofhomesickness，withothersitcomesmoreslowly，accordingtothetimeittakeseachman’shearttodie。
　　Oh，thosepoorNorthmenoftheDivide！Theyaredeadmanyayearbeforetheyareputtorestinthelittlegraveyardonthewindyhillwhereexilesofallnationsgrowakin。
　　ThepeculiarspeciesofhypochondriatowhichtheexilesofhispeoplesoonerorlatersuccumbhadnotdevelopedinEricuntilthatnightattheLoneStarschoolhouse，whenhehadbrokenhisviolinacrosshisknee。Afterthat，thegloomofhispeoplesettleddownuponhim，andthegospelofmacerationbeganitswork。
　　“Ifthineeyeoffendthee，pluckitout，“etcetera。Thepagansmilethatoncehoveredabouthislipswasgone，andhewasonewithsorrow。Religionhealsahundredheartsforonethatitembitters，butwhenitdestroys，itsworkisquickanddeadly，andwheretheagonyofthecrosshasbeen，joywillnotcomeagain。